


Convergence

by dietplainlite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Hotel Sex, Reylo - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Size Kink, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: Rey and Ben are on a mission to visit an ancient temple of the Force during an important astronomical event. But first, there's a tiny hotel room, and a tiny bed.





	Convergence

**Author's Note:**

> From a Tumblr prompt using a fic starter list.  
> "I never want to leave here"+ “We don’t have much time left” +"Just for tonight"
> 
> There is a very mild incest joke in this fic.

It’s not a proper hotel, in that it can barely be called a hotel, but also, proper things rarely occur there. But it’s what’s available to them in the middle of the night during the biggest festival in the planet’s orbital year. The rooms are generally rented by the hour, at a rate almost equal to a full night at other establishments. It costs a good portion of Ben’s credits to obtain it for the six hours until they rendezvous with their scout.

The night clerk sports the Rodian equivalent of a leer as she slides an ancient key card across the counter.  “Treating yourself for the Festival?” she asks, her gaze pointed behind Ben at Rey as she waggles her antenna.

Ben turns to look at Rey, who shrugs. _Let her think whatever she wants, I just want to lie down for two seconds._

He turns back to the clerk. “Hey, she’s my sister,” he says, pasting on what he hopes is an indignant look.

The clerk waves her hand, “I don’t mind,” she says. “You know what they say. Nothing counts during Convergence. I think it’s why it’s so popular with humans.”

“Um—”

“The lift is broken, so you’ll have to take the stairs. Fourth floor, last pod on the right. Fresher is at the other end of the hall.”

Rey groans, but manages to rally herself and trudge up the stairs.

“You know, Jakku was filthy, but at least it was a dry kind of filthy,” she says, flinching away from a trail of iridescent slime on the hand rail.

“It’s just for tonight. Would you rather sleep at the spaceport?”

“Maybe,” she says, as a clearly inebriated Gungan bursts through the door on the third-floor landing and rolls down the stairs.

The pod itself is more promising. It’s tiny, of course, but relatively clean and dry. It’s not much larger than a two person escape pod, and contains a single bed, a sink, and a small dresser. A dull white plastic vase sits on the dresser, holding a faded paper rose. The window showcases the planet’s two moons, so close together that they look inches away from touching. It’s really tens of thousands of miles, but the ancient inhabitants didn’t know, so every year—about ten standard years—as coastal dwellers moved inland to escape the catastrophic tides, the inland cities partied as though this time, the world would really end. Modern astronomy didn’t do anything to quell the practice, it just made it easier to plan ahead.

Ben reaches out with his mind, sensing other life forms in the room. Nothing too alarming. No bedbugs or lice, at least.

“I’ll take the floor,” he says, taking off his cloak.

“You know that’s ridiculous. Besides, it’s freezing in here, and you have to pay extra to work the heat.”

She’s right, on both counts.  It’s stupid to put up any pretenses, especially if it means being too cold to sleep, which was the whole point of paying a fortune for this room to begin with. They strip down to their basics and slip under the thin quilt, piling their cloaks on top.

“Remind me again why we came here?” she asks.

“You know why.” Her hair is tickling his nose. He shifts so that her head is tucked underneath his chin.

Out there, past the city, in an ancient forest, sit the ruins of a temple. It’s said that Force wielders who journey there during the Convergence will gain untold wisdom. What form that wisdom takes is lost to the ages, but their hope is that it involves something like visions rather than being possessed by ancient Sith ghosts.

“What if our guide doesn’t show up? This festival is insane. They could be kidnapped, or drunk, or tied up in an alley somewhere, or in a multi species orgy.”

“Then we find another guide. Or we buy a ship and find it ourselves. I think between the two of us, we can find a temple.”

“Only if the Force wants us to find it.”

“If the Force doesn’t want us to find it, it won’t matter if we have a guide. Now, go to sleep.”

He wouldn’t mind if she kept talking, if they ended up talking all night. Not only do they need to be as rested and alert tomorrow as possible, but the sooner they fall asleep, the less likely it is that there will be a repeat of last night, and the night before. The first time was a mistake, the second could be chalked up to aftershock, but if they do it again, it becomes a pattern. Intentional. He already feels as though he’s sullied her forever, smearing dark marks on her soul as surely as his hands traced a path across her body.

He keeps one hand under his pillow, and the other resting on his hip, but she takes that hand and drags his arm over her body. She doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Rey—”

“Shhh. It’s cold. And I’m trying to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

 

The dream starts as always. He wanders down a corridor in the Falcon, running his fingers along the wall, every pit and groove familiar. But when it should end, dumping him out into the main hold, it continues to curve, round and round. All the while, he can hear his family. His mother’s bright laughter, underscored by his father’s gravelly sarcasm, and his uncle cracking wise, egging them both on.  He needs to reach them, he needs to tell them, to warn them.  He starts running, but again and again the corridor keeps going. He tries to cry out, but it’s the words stop just past his mouth, as though hitting a force field, doubling back and choking him. And as they do, the laughter coming down the hall turns to screams of terror.

This is usually when he wakes up, when the effort to scream pushes from dream to reality, but this time, someone grabs his arm and he whirls around.

“Ben?” Rey says, tugging on his hand. “Ben? You’re having a nightmare. Ben?”

He drops back into reality, his senses flooded by the smell of the room and the sound of rain outside, but he can’t move his arms and there’s a heavy weight on his chest. He lashes out wildly, but the more he struggles, the harder it is to move.

“Ben, please, you’ll hurt yourself. It was a dream. You’re here.”

He stops thrashing and opens his eyes. Rey’s face comes into focus, hovering above him, looking down at him with those limitless eyes. Slowly, she takes her hand off his mouth, and he feels whatever was binding him fall away.

“Were you there? In the dream?”

“Just for a moment. You were choking, and there was screaming. Do you have that dream a lot?”

“Yeah it’s—What time is it?”

“We don’t have much time left. Maybe an hour.”

Lightning flashes, filling the room with stark white light, and suddenly he is aware again that they’re in their basics, that her body is pressed against his.  They stare at each other, and as the thunder crashes, he wraps his hand around the back of her neck and pulls her toward him.

She tastes like hot chocolate they’d shared from the stand at the spaceport, and her mouth is just as warm.

_You taste like chocolate too._

The thought reaches him just as she grabs his cock, and the last vestiges of his nightmare fly away.  With a few quick movements, she’s pushed his underwear down and moved hers out of the way and then she’s sinking onto him, enveloping him, holding him, all while kissing him so deeply he’s afraid he’ll drown. In scattered fragments, her thoughts drift through the ether. He’s big, and it hurts her, but she _likes_ it.

“Rey, we shouldn’t.”

“Why?” she breathes, lifting up so that he’s barely inside her, hovering there.

“I…I don’t remember,” he says. “I never want to leave here.”

She grasps at his chest as she rides him, as expertly as a champion jockey, guiding his pace with the slightest shift of her thighs, as though they’ve been doing this for years rather than days.  When she sits up, to remove her chest wrapping, he slides more deeply inside her, which he didn’t think was possible. The room blazes with lightning again at the moment she tosses the long strip of fabric aside, and he’s certain that image of her will remain seared on his soul for the rest of his life.

He needs to be closer to her, as close as possible, so he sits up, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to him so her breasts are pressed up against him. Immediately, she weaves her hands into his hair and kisses him again, nipping at his lip, trailing kisses up his cheek and to his ear, murmuring into his neck as she moves up and down. What thoughts reach him are more sensation than anything else, wrapped in colors, purple, red and gold, starbursts of mingled pleasure and pain, in her body and her soul.

“Close,” she manages. “So close.”

“I know.”

He shifts, changing the angle slightly, and she whimpers, grinding into him one, two, three more times, her entire body tensing on the last stroke, a low moan escaping as she relaxes, muscles fluttering around him, shuddering against him as she buries her face in his neck. After a few breaths, she sits up straight, resting her arms on his shoulders, and starts to move again. He can feel her fatigue, but when he tells her they don’t have to keep going, she shakes her head.

“Do you know how good this feels, right after? I can really enjoy it because I’m not chasing anything.”

He knows, from the flashes he gets of what she’s feeling, from the way her breath hitches on the down stroke, from how insanely wet she is, and even though she’s moving so slowly, and he has to fight the urge to tighten his grip on her waist and take control. The slower she goes, the longer this will last, and if he could make it last for centuries he would.

Unfortunately, she rolls her hips in just the right way, while kissing his neck, just below his ear, and before the thought that he’s going to come fully forms in his head, he’s spilling into her while crying out her name, his fingers digging into her back. She rides him through it, to the very last spasm, and kisses him on the forehead.

Here’s where they should pull apart, ashamed, suddenly chilled, facing away from each other as they pull on their clothes and lying back to back in the bed.  But she kisses him again, on the peak of his cheekbone, then on the side of his mouth, arms still slung loosely on his shoulders.

He can’t quite bring himself to look into her eyes, so he focuses on the sweat on her upper lip, wiping it away with his thumb, then smoothing the sweaty strands of hair off her cheek. Her mouth looks so soft that he has to kiss her again, and when the chill in the air does set in, he pulls the blanket over them—with a little assistance from the Force—and they lie down, facing each other.

The storm has rolled off into the distance, taking the rain with it, leaving behind a breeze that rattles the shutters and whistles through the cracks in the walls. There’s no point in going to sleep again, so he looks at her, watching the flush fade from her cheeks and the flutter of her eyelashes when she blinks.

“You’re afraid, about tomorrow,” he says.

“Today, technically.”

“But you’re afraid.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it fear. But it feels more like going into battle than going on a vision quest, or whatever it is.” He looks down. “Is that why you wanted to do it again, in case we don’t make it back?”

Rey inches her hand toward his, and he covers it with his own. “I just wanted…I wanted you to know that this—what we did—isn’t something I’m ashamed of. I’m terrified of it, but I’m not ashamed.

“The scariest part is that I might not be able to protect you.”

“You don’t have to protect me.”

“I do,” he insists. “Just like you have to protect me.”

“I’ve never had anyone—"

“Me neither.”

“So…”

“So, I think we should get up, skip whatever horrors are going on in that ‘fresher, get dressed and find out what passes for breakfast in that cantina next door.”

“You’re talking like it’s a regular morning.”

“Maybe it is, for us.”

She sits up, letting the blanket fall away. “Don’t you want, I don’t know, somewhere quiet, some day? To be still?”

“That’s what we’re fighting for, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” she asks, looking at him as though she’s never seen him before

“What else?”

“I think…it does all come down to that.”

“Yes,” he says. “Now, come on. We’ve got a long way to go today, and I’m not doing it without caf.”


End file.
